


For You? The World.

by Spagheddje



Series: Family Divided (Dream SMP) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Philza, Dadza, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dream Smp, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this in the span of four hours, Just backstory, Kinda, Maybe ooc but he was a kid so, Me writing fluff? weird, Phil's a god but we don't talk about it, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Techno-centric, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, baby Wilbur for a split second, its also my fic and ill write baby techno how I want, its so late, mildly, no beta we die like men, shhhh its fine, techno kills a king once, tommy is mentioned, yknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spagheddje/pseuds/Spagheddje
Summary: Phil, what felt like centuries ago, took Techno under his wing and promised him the world.Now, Technoblade can finally repay the favour, even if it’s not to the same extent.
Relationships: NO SHIPS HERE SIR, No Romantic Relationship(s), THEYRE FAMILY OKAY
Series: Family Divided (Dream SMP) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096295
Comments: 7
Kudos: 278





	For You? The World.

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine Techno being four or five around the beginning of this fic, but time in the Nether is weird so he refers to himself as youngling. I doubt he knows his real age. 
> 
> Anyways! Hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> (I did not proofread this before posting it so if there are any errors...pretend you didn't see them lmao)

Technoblade was a youngling when he was found on the verge of death in the Nether, by the man with the kind smile and shaggy blond hair poking out from under the edges of a white and green bucket hat. 

His pack had abandoned him weeks ago, shortly after the boy had begun to show signs of being a hybrid. They weren’t exactly welcome amongst normal Piglins, and it had only been a matter of time until the others had found out. He’d actually been hiding it quite well, even though it was obvious to him. It was apparently less obvious to the others. The damning evidence had come when he was sparring. His opponent had gotten a hit in when Techno had parried, and warm red began to drip from a small cut above his eyebrow. His opponent had frozen, blood red eyes widening. All those born in the Nether bled gold. He’d heard an angry hiss of, “hybrid scum!” and that had been that. 

They’d dragged him to a Bastian and had left him there. No weapons, no food, no way home. It was the equivalent of an execution, but slower. No Piglins had ever survived a night alone in a Bastian, even in scavenging groups. 

One had gotten close once, body having been dead by the gates to the entrance when the rest of their pack came to retrieve them. One of the pack elders had covered Techno’s eyes to keep the boy from watching, but he could still hear the faint sound of a gold sword cracking through the deceased Piglin’s skull. It was the merciful thing to do. None of them wanted to come back. They deserved peace. Well, as much peace as a Piglin could get. 

Techno hadn’t even gone into the Bastian, not fully. He took a few steps in, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to see if the others were still watching. Bones of dead Piglins and Mobs past cracked and snapped under his hooves. Techno’s hands shook, his stomach churning uncomfortably at the thought of them being someone he knew, or the thought of his bones eventually being added to the pile. Ten or so minutes passed before the pack members that brought him seemed satisfied that he wasn’t coming back out, so they turned and walked off. Techno had waited until they were out of sight. He poked his head around the side of the wall, watching as the pair retreated over the hill.

As soon as they were out of sight? He turned the opposite direction and ran as fast away from the Bastian as his hooves would take him. 

That had been two weeks ago. He’d eaten the last of his nether wart and he didn’t exactly have the energy to sneak his way into a Fortress to collect more. This was it, then. This was how he’d die. It was what his pack had wanted. It was just a shame that it had taken so long. Black spots danced in his vision and his head spun. His legs trembled with each step and exhaustion called to him, but Techno kept marching on. 

Well, he marched on until he heard the shrill cry of a ghast from somewhere behind him. Tears began to well in his eyes as the last sliver of hope he’d clung to began to fade. He didn’t want to die. Piglins were meant to be strong creatures, never shying away from danger or a fight, but in that moment? Techno was scared. He feared the stories he was told as a child about how dead Piglins only stay dead for a short amount of time, before their corpses reanimate, doomed to wander the Nether for the rest of time, soulless zombies. 

He’d only seen a few wandering from a distance in his lifetime. Rotted flesh hanging off their bodies, glassy eyes, letting out these guttural, broken growls as they staggered aimlessly with no goal in sight. Techno didn’t want that to happen to him. He wanted to live. 

He’d had plans, once. He’d heard tales of the Overworld, of humans. It had been a secret goal of his to see one, someday. See if they had horns and claws like the elders told him they did. Once, they’d told him that a kind human had brought them gold in exchange for a fire resistance potion. That night, Techno had taught himself how to brew one, just incase that human returned. Maybe he could be the first Piglin to befriend a human, properly. All the stories mainly talked about their wars with humans. He wanted to be apart of a story that brought the two kinds together. He’d kept the potion for a while, until a member of his pack snatched it from him before they went off on a supply run. 

_“Let go of your delusions, boy. No one is coming for you.”_ They’d said, snarling, before chugging the mixture and clomping off. They chucked the bottle over their shoulder and Techno had watched as the glass bubbled and melted in a lava pool. 

There was an explosion about five feet away from him that brought him back to reality, and Techno was knocked back by the force of it. He let out a broken cry as his head thunked against a chunk of netherrack, and he could see tiny splotches of red staining pale pink hair. A sob bubbled up in Techno’s throat as he heard the ghast give another cry, followed by a familiar spitting sound. The youngling brought his knees to his chest and covered his head with his arms, cowering and waiting for the blow that would end it all.

But it never came.

Instead, there was a harsh thunk against metal, followed by a third and final screech from the ghast, before everything went quiet. All Techno could hear was the distant bubbling of Lava, his own sniffles, and something breathing heavily in front of him.

Techno hesitantly peaked out from behind his arms, and found himself looking up. There was a person who’s back was to him. He wore a green and white striped hat, a black coat with green cuffs, and was wielding a diamond sword. He flinched and curled in on himself further when the person turned, as if expecting to be the next victim to the sword, but again, it never came. 

The man had a kind face. He wore a soft yet concerned smile, and Techno could see shaggy tufts of hair poking out from under his hair, which surprised him. He’d never seen another being in the Nether with hair, only his own reflection if he looked close enough at the lava. That’s when it seemed to hit him, and his eyes got a bit wider.

His saviour was a human, and Techno didn’t have any fucking fire resistance potions on him. 

Another sob bubbled in his throat, and he hung his head. Another thing he’d screwed up. This was the final kick to the shin, the fact that he FINALLY got to see a real human and they’d simply pass him by since he had nothing to trade.

The human simply crouched in front of him, sheathing his sword and giving Techno a warm, comforting smile. He said something in a language Techno didn’t recognize and the man seemed to sense the confusion coming from the boy, because he seemed to switch to another tactic. He dug through a pouch hanging off his belt and he finally retrieved a ratty notebook. He scribbled something down in it, then extended it out to Techno with that same gentle smile.

Techno sniffled, reaching up to swipe at his eyes before reluctantly reaching out to take the book. Was this it? Was this when the human realized that Techno had nothing to trade, and would kill him? His eyes swam with tears as he looked down at the page, and was surprised to see that the human had written to him in Piglin. It was definitely an easier language to read than to speak, at least to foreigners. The words were partially spelt wrong and the sentence was choppy, but Techno could more or less make out what the human was trying to say.

_My name is Phil, I’m not going to hurt you. That was a close one, but you’re safe now. that’s a pretty nasty cut you’ve got there, mate. Mind if I help?_

For a moment, Techno hesitated. The human – Phil – wasn’t going to kill him? In all the stories, humans became hostile when Piglins didn’t cooperate. To be fair, though, the stories also depicted humans as monstrous creatures with sharp, talon-like claws, devil horns, and a thirst for Piglin blood. Phil didn’t seem to have any of that.

Techno finally gave a subtle nod, and something warm bloomed in his chest when Phil’s face lit up. The man scooted closer slowly as to not startle the child while he pulled a red potion from his pouch. Techno immediately recognized it as a healing potion. It was placed in his hands as Phil’s hands moved up to Techno’s head, pushing pink hair matted with dried blood away from the wound. A whisper in Techno’s head told him that the potion could be poisoned, but for some reason, he drank it anyways. Phil wouldn’t do that, would he? It burned going down his throat and he cringed, earning a soft laugh from Phil.

Phil began talking again in that same language Techno didn’t understand, but he listened the best he could. His voice was soothing, much nicer to listen to than the bubbling lava and distant dangers constantly lurking. Phil’s voice was warm. It made Techno feel safe.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Phil was murmuring, keeping a close eye on the small gash atop the boy’s head as it began to close, “good as new, mate.”

Phil ran his fingers through the cleaner part of Techno’s hair, and he realized in that moment how exhausted he was. Techno’s eyes fluttered closed, tears long since dried, and he leaned absentmindedly into Phil’s hand. Phil let out a noise akin to a coo, and Techno whined in the back of his throat. A warm cloth, Phil’s jacket, wrapped around his shoulders. He immediately curled into it, too tired to flinch away when Phil’s arms pulled him close. 

“Sleep, bud. I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Techno still didn’t understand him, but he let his body sag against Phil’s chest, focusing on the hand combing through his hair as he drifted off to sleep. 

When he woke up, Techno had no idea where he was. It was colder than the temperature he was used to, but he was surrounded by soft blankets and pillows. The main blanket he was cuddled up with wasn’t a blanket at all, it was Phil’s jacket. This must be Phil’s house, which meant Techno must be in the Overworld. Anxiety spiked and his heart seemed to leap into his throat, stomach twisting into knots as his hands began to tremble. He’d never been to the Overworld, and he had no idea what to expect. 

He slowly sat up to observe the room he was in, and when he was upright, he found himself face to face with a young boy. He had wide, dark brown eyes, a mousey face covered in freckles, and curly brown hair that seemed to explode in an unruly fashion over the top of his head. 

The mystery boy let out a surprised squeak and scrambled away from the bed as Techno sat up, making a beeline for the door and sprinting through it.

“Dad! Dad! he’s awake! Can we play, now?”

“Wilbur, please-” Techno heard Phil let out an exasperated sigh from somewhere outside the door, and some of his fear instantly seemed to dissipate. 

Techno’s eyes darted around the room. He was in a large bed with green sheets which he instantly assumed belonged to Phil. There were chests, mostly made of wood, but one Ender, in the corner of the room along with a few brewing stands, and a crafting table. There were a few bookshelves against the wall to his right, filled to the brim with old leatherback books. Some had that same language Techno didn’t understand on the spines, but some had other dialects. A few were even in Piglin. That explained how Phil could write it, then.

Just then, the door swung open and Phil came through. He held a small tray with a mug on it and a plate of something Techno didn’t recognize. The boy trailed nervously behind him, his fingers buried into the fabric of Phil’s shirt, staring at Techno with curious eyes. Techno shrunk under his gaze, and Phil pat the other boy on the head affectionately.

“Wilbur, why don’t you go play downstairs for a moment?”

Wilbur, the boy in question, pouted defiantly. Phil gave him some sort of look, though, and Wilbur huffed out a soft, “okay,” before running out the door. Phil shut it behind Wilbur, then came to sit on the edge of the bed with a soft grin.

“How’d you sleep?” When Techno tilted his head curiously at the words, Phil sighed. Right. Phil pressed his palms together and put them against the side of his head, pretending to sleep, before giving both a thumbs up and a thumbs down. He then pointed to Techno and gave him an encouraging smile. 

That, Techno understood. Phil wanted to know how he slept. Techno gave a small nod and lifted his hand to give a thumbs up. For the second time, Techno saw the man’s face light up. 

Moving on, Phil picked up the mug from the tray. He mimicked bringing it up to his lips and taking a small sip before pressing the mug into Techno’s hands. He set the tray down in between them on the bed and pretended to eat some of the food, then scooted it over to Techno. 

Ah, that made sense. Phil had brought him a meal. Techno took a hesitant sip of the brown liquid in the mug, and warmth instantly exploded in his chest. Any lingering knots and fears seemed to slip away as he took another sip. 

“Hot Chocolate.” Phil smiled, even if he knew Techno wouldn’t understand. Much to his surprise, Techno gave another nod.

“Ho’ Choc-lat.” The hybrid boy mumbled, sounding out each part of the word carefully, and a massive grin split across Phil’s face. 

“Yeah! Hot Chocolate. Good job, mate. You’re a fast learner.” 

Techno seemed to thrive under the praise, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was the first Phil had seen from him, and it was a much more reassuring sight than the one he’d seen earlier of Techno crying, cowering in the Nether and waiting for death. 

Phil moved to take the mug from Techno’s hands, though he froze when Techno let out a noise similar to a whine and reached for the mug again. Phil immediately reached out to thread his fingers through the boy’s hair, and that seemed to calm him.

“Shh, bud. I’m not taking it, just putting it down so you can eat.”

“E-at.”

“Yeah! Eat. Good job.” Phil picked up the plate and set it in Techno’s lap. There was a plain baked potato (which Techno’s eyes seemed to light up at the sight of, Phil took note of that), a few slices of fresh bread, and a small wooden bowl of rabbit stew. 

(Phil had almost served pork, but he realized at the last second that serving pork to a Piglin child probably wasn’t the best idea.)

Techno dove into the baked potato first. Phil’s chest tightened at how quickly the boy shovelled food into his mouth. When was the last time he’d eaten? 

Once he was done, Phil took the plate from him and set it down on the tray. He picked up the mug of hot chocolate and placed it back in Techno’s awaiting hands, smiling contently as he instantly took a sip. 

It seemed to dawn on him then that Phil didn’t know this kid’s name. He cleared his throat to get his attention and when red eyes turned to him, Phil smiled fondly. 

“Phil.” He pointed at himself, the boy’s eyes following his hand movements. He then pointed at the hybrid child and nodded encouragingly.

Realistically, Techno didn’t have a proper name. Most Piglins didn’t. “Techno” was the nickname given to an ancient Piglin warrior that the boy had insisted on taking after, and “blade” was a nickname he’d gotten from sparing with the other children in his pack. While they all tended to go for axes and crossbows, Techno had always been drawn to swords. So, he’d put them together to get his “name.”

“Tech-no-blade.” He stated carefully, the words coming out as more of a soft grumble than actual words. They were Piglin words, so Phil hadn’t really expected anything else. Still, he nodded.

“Technoblade? Wow, that’s a cool name. Much better than boring old Phil.”

Though Techno didn’t fully understand, he still gave a tiny grin as he took another sip of his hot chocolate. 

They sat in comfortable silence and soon, the mug was empty. Techno’s eyes began to grow heavy again, so Phil moved the tray off of his bed and coaxed Techno to lay down. Once he did, Phil pulled the covers, as well as his own jacket up over him and tucked him in. Techno let out a content sigh and something in Phil’s chest swelled with relief at the thought of the child feeling safe with him.

He crouched beside the bed and tucked a strand of pale pink hair behind one of Techno’s ears, earning a soft noise of approval from him. His hand came up to grasp Phil’s and Phil took note of how warm Techno’s skin was. He knew Piglin’s tended to run warm, but he’d never actually held hands with one before.

Techno’s hand was so small in his own, but Phil still gave it a squeeze. He leant forward to press a kiss to the top of Techno’s head, planning on staying until he was sure he’d drifted back off to sleep. 

The last thing Techno heard before he drifted off was Phil’s comforting voice saying words he didn’t understand, but he didn’t really need to. His tone said it all.

“For you, Technoblade? I’d give the world.” 

They were different people now, all of them. Technoblade was not that same frightened Piglin child that Phil had rescued in the Nether. He’d grown, he’d become something more. The Blood God, some called him. The Blade, according to others. To Phil, he’d always just been Techno.

He was “Tech” to Wilbur, and for some time, he’d been “Techie” to Tommy. That didn’t exactly matter now, though. Wilbur was dead, now a confused ghost wandering the SMP and offering people “blue” and Tommy had been exiled for his “crimes.” It was kind of funny, truthfully, but it also left a dull, grief-like ache in the pit of Techno’s stomach. 

Techno wasn’t exactly in a better spot, though. Apparently shooting the newly appointed President with a rocket-launcher-crossbow and releasing Withers on a newly formed nation right after assisting to dismantle the last one was banishment worthy. He’d done worse things, but this seemed to be the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. 

So, he’d made the executive decision to move. He’d built himself a little cottage up North, in a distant tundra, just incase something like this happened. It had been sitting unoccupied for a few weeks now, ready to welcome him if danger had struck.

Carl had been moved in the night before the Revolution. Techno had had a sinking feeling that things would go south, and he didn’t want his horse to be caught in the downfall. There were few living beings that Techno cared deeply for and somehow, a horse named by the voices in his head was on the list. 

That left his mobs, and his cow, along with the last few bits and pieces of his belongings. Phil had been a godsend with his offer to help. Help was something Techno had a hard time accepting, but it would save time going back and forth to move everyone over to his new base. That, and Phil’s company was always welcome.

Once the work had been done, he and Phil stood in Techno’s new living room. Phil was admiring the art strewn about the walls while Techno was hunched over, digging intently for something in one of his many chests. He straightened up once he grabbed it, but he hesitated before shutting the lid. 

He’d changed his outfit upon their arrival. His classic red cloak had been replaced with one of soft blue. He had plenty of cloaks, sure, but he had a feeling Ghostbur would like this one. Techno had even gone as far as to find an old pair of glasses to replace his contacts. The one thing that had remained from his days of violence, however, was his crown. He lifted it from atop his head and held the item in his hands, watching as the light from the nearby fireplace shone off each jewel. It was one of his prized possessions. He’d gotten it when he was roughly 14, when he’d overthrown his first government. It was a tiny Kingdom on the outskirts of where Phil had raised him and his brothers, but the territory was edging closer and closer to their tiny home. He’d brought it up to Phil who insisted that it would be fine, but the boy disagreed. So, naturally, Techno had taken matters into his own hands.

He still remembered watching the life drain from the man’s eyes as Techno’s sword plummeted into his chest, and twisted with a sickening crack. His eyes were filled with fear. Techno, on the other hand, was smiling wickedly. His face was splattered in blood, none of which was his own. Blood red eyes were completely black. The voices cheered him on, chanting, _bloodgodbloodgodyesyesyesbloodforthebloodgodyesyeskillhimKILLHIMKILLHIM_  
In that moment, there had been no Technoblade. Only the Blood God had remained, and there had been no survivors.

Techno had stolen the fallen King’s crown as a prize, and had worn it ever since.

Now, though, he was trying to put his violent days behind him. Techno sucked in a sharp breath and, albeit reluctantly, placed it in the chest. He shut the lid and stepped back maybe a little too quickly, but if Phil noticed, he didn’t mention it.

He turned back to face his father and found him taking a seat in front of the fire. Phil let out a soft groan, though it was followed by the ghost of a smile.

“I’m getting old. My bones creak when I sit down. I envy your youth, Techno.”

Phil had lost so much. So had Techno, sure, but it was different for Phil. He’d, in a way, lost two sons. That was part of the reason Techno had gone into retirement, really. He wasn’t about to make him lose a third. Even though Tommy was still alive, Phil seemed wary about visiting when Dream was around. Techno didn’t blame him. Dream was like a time bomb. You knew time was ticking down, and it could blow any second, but you never knew exactly when. Techno felt bad that, more than likely, Tommy would be there when the bomb finally went off. 

Wilbur had been a whole other story. He’d gone insane some time ago and Techno partially blamed himself for not seeing the signs until it was too late. Even if they’d managed to talk Wilbur out of pushing the button, he was too far gone to be saved. Techno had been there, he’d heard the distant screams of Wilbur begging Phil to kill him. He’d seen Phil accept the sword Wilbur pushed into his hand, his other coming to rest on the back of Wilbur’s head before he plunged the sword through his chest. He’d seen Wilbur smile, relieved, slumping into his father’s embrace as his final life was taken from him. Phil had fallen to his knees, cradling Wilbur’s body close to him. Techno’s twin. Not by blood, but his twin nonetheless. When Techno had told him he didn’t have a birthday, Wilbur had whined and pouted until Techno agreed to share his. They’d been the twins ever since. 

Tommy had screamed, guttural and broken, tears streaming down his face. Maybe Techno had screamed too, but it was drowned out by the sounds of explosions and swords clashing behind him. If he had, no one else had paid it any mind. 

To this day, Techno still saw the guilt flash through Phil’s eyes when someone mentioned Wilbur. Killing him had been the best thing for him, but sometimes, Techno lay awake at night wondering what he would’ve done if he’d been in Phil’s position. 

Pushing those thoughts aside for now, Techno wordlessly took the empty seat across from his father. Phil had taught him English, and he was fluent now, but he had never exactly been one for speaking unless he absolutely had to. He and Phil had been a perfect pair, Phil always talked to fill the silence. He was the only one that Techno never, ever grew tired of. Now, though, they sat in silence, the pair staring at the crackling fire.

After some time, Techno, surprisingly, was the one who broke the silence.

“Phil, I have to tell you something.” 

Phil didn’t take his eyes away from the fire, but he hummed in acknowledgement. He seemed lost in thought, but Phil often did nowadays. It didn’t mean he wasn’t listening. That was something Techno was still trying to learn to remember and not take personally. 

“You’re the only friend I have left in the world, Phil.”

That got his attention. Blue eyes locked with red ones, and Phil gave him a concerned look. He leaned forward in his seat as if encouraging his son to continue. Techno took a shaky breath, and did.

“You’re the only friend I have left, which is why I want you to have this compass.” Techno passed over the item which faintly glowed with it’s enchantment, and as Phil took it, he looked at it like it was the most precious thing in the world. A hint of a smile appeared on his face.

“Where does it point to?”

“Here. Me, I mean. Well, not me, necessarily, but my base.” Techno cleared his throat before also leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. There was a new level of seriousness to his expression, which Phil seemed to recognize. “It’s for if you ever need me, Phil. I’m going into retirement now. I’m giving up my violent ways...but if you ever need me, Phil,” Techno reached across the small gap and grabbed one of Phil’s hands, giving it a gentle squeeze, which Phil returned, “I will fight for you. Alright? I'll fight for our shitty little family. I will do whatever it takes to help you.”

Phil’s eyes had become watery and suddenly he rose from his seat. He crossed the small, empty gap separating them and before Techno could react, his dad had pulled him to his feet and into a hug. Techno practically towered over him now, but Phil’s hugs were still so comforting. They made him feel safe, no matter how old and how tall he got.

Techno returned the hug, letting his chin rest against Phil’s shoulder as he relaxed into the embrace. Against his shoulder, Phil sniffled, and Techno felt him pat his back affectionately.

“Thank you, Techno.”

“For you, Phil? The world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come scream with me on Twitter, @lovebothux !!!  
> It's like 4am when I'm posting this but I hope you enjoyed!! I recently got into the Dream SMP fandom and have so many Technoblade ideas to turn into fics, lol. Thanks for reading!


End file.
